


Here With You

by SwopesWrites



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Don't say I didn't warn you, so fluffy Troy Baker himself may appear after reading and hug you, unapologetic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:37:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwopesWrites/pseuds/SwopesWrites
Summary: You wake up at quarter after three and take up some time admiring your bedmate.
Relationships: Sam Drake/Reader, Samuel Drake/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	Here With You

You were warm. You were comfortable. You were being held. Why the hell were you waking up?

As your brain rallied itself and actually allowed thought, you realized your bladder was the culprit. You pulled your tired bones together, figuratively, and demanded your muscles to function literally. It took some shimmying and sliding to get out from under the arm, but once you were freed you stumbled into the bathroom. Picking up the watch discarded on the counter, you squinted at the time. Quarter after three. It must have been a hard run if your bedmate there was sleeping right through. He tended to sleep in shifts of three or four hours. Not that you minded. He knew how to sneak around well enough.

You finished with your business and stumbled back into the bedroom. The sight on the bed gave you pause, bringing a warm smile on your face.

Sam Drake was a rough and rugged type with a quip and a smirk at the ready like a loaded gun. He faced the world with that façade and it made him seem untouchable. But no one aside from you got to see this side of him.

He was laid out on his stomach, sheets tangled in his legs. His arm was thrown over the pillow you vacated. Like he had been looking for you. His usual kept hair was an unholy skew in all directions. Serenity read into his face. Untouched by time. Untouched by trauma.

You sat of the mattress, eyes moving over his bare trunk. For the first months you had been together, he always wore a shirt. To bed, right after a shower, in the unbearable heatwave. When you were making love, he demanded the lights off. Anything to hide the marring of his skin. Not that you were fooled. Your hands weren’t blind. You felt the scars. You felt the flinches when fingers touched them. You saw the bad days when the weather changed and his side pained. The absent-minded rubs over the aching flesh.

It was hard for him when that shirt finally came off in the light. That day you had undressed before him, and you told him the tale of every mark and fault you had. You told him you wanted him to know he wouldn’t be turned away. The scars didn’t matter. The stories behind them didn't matter. And he didn’t have to show them. You had your scars too, and you would never force it one way or the other. He wanted to though. It was time, he said.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t break your heart. The pain that man must have suffered. The anxiety and fear of rejection he tied with it.

“Come back to bed, babe,” his groggy voice croaked.

You smiled. “I am in bed.”

He rolled onto his back, huffing a sigh at the effort. Looking up at you, his eyes blinked away the sleep. “Kind of,” he admitted. “C’mon. I’m getting cold over here.”

Chuckling, you laid back so you were perpendicular to him. Your shoulders rested on his side and head on his stomach. You looked up at him with a cheeky smirk. “Better?”

His hand moved to your stomach, thumb gently tracing lines over skin. It was warm. Cold your ass. “Better.” His eyes drifted closed again.

You put your hand over his. The pressure on your stomach felt nice. A stomach that one day may swell with child. His child. What a thought. To be honest, if it happened over the next while you’d be torn. So would he, you knew. It’s not like you two were at that point yet. There were too many things you had not told him about yourself. Too many things he was too anxious to tell you too. But maybe not too far from now, you two would talk. Hopefully not forced by a surprise pregnancy.

Smiling up at him, you realized he would be a good father.

As you stared up at that gentle face, you wondered if the poor babe would get its father’s nose. Or was that even Sam’s real nose? Who knew how many times the poor thing had been beaten, broken, or otherwise abused?

His one eye popped open. “Why you looking at me like that?”

“Just had a strange thought.”

He put his free arm under his head, tilting to get a better look at you. “You? Strange? Never.”

You stuck your tongue out. “Just wondering if that’s your original nose shape, or if you’d broken too many times.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “Doctor said one more good hit, and I get a nose job out of it.”

“Oooh! Do you get to pick from a catalogue?”

“Yes, doc, I’d like to order one nose. Page twelve, line four, second from the right.”

“Do I get a say in this? I feel like as the one having to see it the most, I should get a vote.”

“If you had a say, then Victor and Nate would want one. Then Elena. Hell, probably Chloe too. And I’d never hear the end of it if Chloe got a vote, but not Nadine. She’d pick the most hideous one out of spite.”

You chuckled, but your gut knotted up. “Chloe and Nadine will be there tomorrow, right?”

“Chloe for sure. Nadine, maybe not.” He sighed. “Nate hasn’t seen her since she was trying to maim and murder us, so it might be a tricky situation.”

You nodded, though you weren’t really sure. That was one thing Sam had yet to fully open up about, but you weren’t pushing. You had your secrets and shames and regrets. So long as he never lied and was good to you, that was all that mattered for now.

“You’ll like Chloe. Her and Nate go way back. Long time friends.”

You had met Nate and Elena, then Victor shortly after. All separately. In small, comfortable settings. But tomorrow was a big game night. Nate and Elena were on a break from their show and had rented a condo downtown. Everyone was converging to have a good time. There were others coming in and out, but Sam said he did not know them either.

Sam’s hand stroked your stomach. “It’ll be fine. They’ll love you.”

“I didn’t realize I was so transparent.”

“Breathing changed.” He smiled at you. “Don’t sweat it.”

“They’re your family, Sam. I don’t want them to hate me.”

“No one could hate you.”

You chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’m serious,” he added. “You’re amazing. And beautiful. And getting chilled. C’mon.” He shifted a bit, pulling the blanket out enough to cover you. You took the opportunity to move onto your side, shoving a pillow between Sam’s side and your ribs. As you settled your head on his stomach again, his hand brushed over your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answered without thought.

A grin bloomed on his lips. It was then you realized you two had never spoken the words before. But those three words had lived with you much longer. You felt them in Sam’s jacket draped over your shoulders as you ran from bar to cab in a rainstorm. In the late-night phone calls while he was miles away, and you were curled in the armchair alone. It was shared in the kitchen tripping over each other. It was held in sighs and gasps in this very bed countless times before.

And somehow in just speaking the words, they sounded more of a promise than a statement. For the first time possibly ever you believed it.

He brushed your cheek again before letting his hand rest on your thigh. “Night, love.”

“Oh? Going to start with pet names, huh?” You placed a gentle kiss on his skin. “Night, darling.”

Chuckling, he said, “Sleep tight, pumpkin.”

“See you in the morning, muffin.”

“Sweet dreams, honey-buns.”

“Only of you, snookums.” You couldn’t even say it with a straight face. “God, that one was awful.”

“You win.” His hand started rubbing your leg. “Goodnight.”

Resting your cheek on your hand, you let the night swallow you whole. For now, nothing existed beyond this bed and the man you loved. There was no place you rather be. As you sank into a restful sleep, you felt him drift off as well. Tonight, his snore couldn’t keep you awake.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the self-indulgent fluff. Enjoy the rest of your day!
> 
> Please do not re-post to other sites without the creator's permission.


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